


it's strange that i still call you

by fictionalparadises



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalparadises/pseuds/fictionalparadises
Summary: The call always comes when he least expects it.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	it's strange that i still call you

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCb7u9Ughp4)

The call comes when he least expects it.

His phone screen lights up where it lays flat on the table, and he’s so focused to make sure his little brother doesn’t choke on the spoon in his mouth that Max almost misses it. Victoria nudges his shoulder and points to where it buzzes next to his half-empty plate.

His heart jumps in his chest at the name as he takes it from the table and gets up, eyebrows knitting together as he wonders what this can be about. “I’ll be right back,” he says to no one in particular, “I’ve got to take this.” Victoria is the only one who hears and nods, giving him a careful smile before she takes his place and turns to his little brother. The rest of his family is caught up in conversations, Christmas dinner giving them the opportunity to catch up on everything that’s been going on. 

Max turns on his heel and closes the door to the hallway behind him. The loud conversations fade to nothing more than indistinct chatter. Then he presses his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Max?” Daniel’s voice is a little more than a breath. Even through the line, Max can hear the grin in his voice, can picture it so clearly that it hits him like a blow in the gut.

“Hey, mate. Everything okay?” He asks, because he can’t think of any other reason why he’s calling. They don’t do that. _Anymore_ , a voice in the back of his mind vividly reminds him. They don’t do that anymore.

The call comes when he least expects it. The call always comes when he least expects it, when he thinks hearing Daniel’s voice doesn’t have the power to make him crumble anymore, when he’s hopeful his heart won’t skip a beat at the flash of his name on his screen. When he finally thinks he’s probed the bruise often enough for it to stop hurting, the bluish taint only a reminder of what he has overcome instead of what he can’t have.

But then Daniel calls. And it doesn’t. All he finds out that it hasn’t stopped hurting, that he hasn’t been able to move on, that the sound of his voice, even through the static-y line, still has the ability to make his very insides tremble with something that’s ingrained inside of him, something familiar and sharp and painful. Some days he can feel that sensation curling around his lungs until it makes it hard to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Daniel says, “I’m doing great. I thought I’d call, since it’s the holidays and all. What have you been up to?”

The casualness of his words almost dizzies him. _I thought I’d call, since it’s the holidays and all._ Like they do this often. Like Daniel didn’t give it a second thought, to call Max and wish him Merry Christmas. Max leans against the wall and lets his head thump back against it.

“Nothing much,” he replies. “Winter break has been pretty boring, actually. Just the usual, I suppose—working out, sleeping in, eating more than I should…”

Daniel laughs, a brilliant sound even from the other side of the world, and Max can’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting up. “Oh, mate, same. Michael left for a week and I think I’ve doubled in size.”

“Maybe we should do a bootcamp together. I think Michael and Bradley would enjoy seeing us suffer.”

He gets a hum in response. “I mean, if you want me to pass away, sure, I’m down.”

They share a laugh, Max in the cold hallway of his father’s house, Daniel 8500 miles away in Perth doing God knows what. Is he with his family? Max wonders. Is he at home, on his farm, enjoying the sunshine and warm weather?

“D’you have any plans for tomorrow?” Daniel asks, cool and easy, as if it’s nothing to him but a normal question, and Max doesn’t understand how he does it, because this normal question makes his palms sweaty and his knees weak.

“Nothing much,” Max starts, trying to keep a steady voice. “I’m probably gonna meet up with my mom. For lunch, I think. That’d be nice.” He takes a beat. Tries not to think about the realization that he misses Daniel. “I’m at my dad’s house right now, for a Christmas Eve dinner with my family.” Never mind the fact that dinner’s almost done already, and that he’s been on his toes for the entirety of the night. His dad’s house is cold, despite the large Christmas tree in the middle of the living room, despite the string lights wrapped around the handrail of the stairs.

There’s the faint ruffle of fabric in the background. “Wait, you’re having dinner right now? Shit, I should’ve asked, I’m so sorry—” Daniel begins, and at the same time Max calculates that it’s the middle of the night in Perth.

“Why are you awake? Isn’t it four in the morning?” Max interrupts him, and all Daniel manages as an excuse is a dragged-out _uuh_.

“Yeah. I should probably be asleep,” he says after a second.

Max drags a hand through his short hair, pays half a mind to the thought that Daniel would like that he’s not wearing his cap for once. “I should probably get back to dinner,” he replies.

But neither of them end the call.

It’s quiet for a long moment. Max racks his brain trying to think of what to say, how to keep the conversation going, but all he can come up with his things he _shouldn’t_ say, thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking. And what comes out is, “I miss you.”

Daniel huffs out something that might be a chuckle, and for a split second, Max can feel himself tensing, until Daniel says, “The one and only Max Verstappen misses me? Who’d have thought.” And normally, Max would have felt offended, he would’ve gotten angry at the person saying it and even angrier at himself for sharing the thought. But Daniel speaks softly, with a certain tenderness in the undertones of his words, and it’s _Daniel_ , for whom Max has always had a soft spot.

He doesn’t reply, just turns to the side and lets his temple rest against the wall, head tilted, eyesight shifted to the left. From here, he can see the Christmas tree through the glass door. There are so many ornaments that the green is merely a blur. The lights project glimmering reflections on the wall and the floor, red and purple and gold.

“I miss you too, Maxy,” Daniel says, and Max swears his voice is slightly hoarse.

A memory fizzles in the back of his mind until it bubbles up to the surface and takes a clear shape; December 2017, meeting up in the UK right before winter break with a camera crew and a table full of plastic food. Changing into funky red and blue suits, Daniel’s fingers steadily and precisely buttoning up his white shirt. His cheeks had burned so hot that it’d spread down to his neck, but Daniel had pretended not to notice and flashed him that bright smile that made his stomach do somersaults.

How beautiful he’d looked that day, careless and radiant, even in the blue Christmas suit that fit him so surprisingly well, curls framing his forehead in the exact way Max liked so much.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas Day?” Max asks in return, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and focusing on the feeling of his toes curling and uncurling in his shoes.

“Not much, either,” Daniel replies, letting out a laugh. “I’ve started Christmas Day really well, though, I’d say, calling you because I couldn’t sleep.”

“Daniel Ricciardo and not being able to sleep? Hearing those in the same sentence is a miracle.”

“The real Christmas miracle here is that you answered your phone, asshole,” Daniel retorts.

Max laughs, the sound bouncing off the bare walls of the hallway. “I always answer your calls, mate. Don’t play this card now.”

“Hm,” Dan hums, and halfway through the murmur he yawns into the phone.

“You should sleep,” Max reminds him, just as his little cousin peeks through the door and huddles away, flushed bright red and laughing after locking eyes with him.

“I know, yeah,” Dan starts, trailing off.

Max doesn’t want to end the call. He wishes Daniel was here, in Monaco, that he could go up to his apartment first thing in the morning with fresh pastries and coffee from the bakery down the street to celebrate Christmas with him. He wishes he could see sleepy brown eyes and a brilliant grin, that—somehow—never falters, no matter what time of the day it is. He wishes he could trace the tattoos on Daniel’s arm, all the way to his hands, to feel the calloused pads on his fingertips.

But Daniel is not in Monaco. Max can’t kiss the rough skin on his hands, the stubble on his cheeks, the wrinkled lines next to his eyes.

“Hey,” Daniel speaks up again, almost hesitant as he pulls Max out of his miserable train of thought. “I was wondering—I’ll be back in Monaco in a few days, I’m probably going to spend New Year’s there, and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime then?”

The question comes so unexpected that Max is breathless for a few seconds. All vocabulary flies straight from his mind—how do you form normal sentences again? —and he remembers just in time how to speak. “Yes, of course. Obviously,” he adds, wanting to slap himself in the face.

“Great!” There’s the grin again. Max knows it’s there, even if he can’t see it. “If you don’t have any plans for New Year’s Eve yet—” Daniel begins at the exact same time Max clears his throat, “If you want, we can celebrate New Year’s—”

They both stop talking before they burst out laughing.

Daniel speaks up first. “I’d love to. Yeah, that’d be amazing, mate.”

“Perfect,” Max replies, finding it hard to withhold a smile.

“Alright,” Dan says, yawning again. “I’m gonna go back to sleep for a few hours. Gotta get some rest for all the eating I’m gonna do later today.”

Max laughs, pinching his eyes shut for a moment and smiling to himself. “Thanks for calling, Daniel. And merry Christmas to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Max.”

When he ends the call, the silence isn’t as overwhelming as he expected it to be. _Daniel wants to meet up with him. Daniel wants to spend New Year’s Eve with him._ That feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach slowly turns into something warm and substantial, and even if he does not want to get his hopes up, he doesn’t loathe it as much as he did before.

The call comes when he least expects it.

But it always comes at the exact time he needs it most.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! leave a comment or come find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sundaycore) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/sundaycore) <3


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